


Trouser Snakes and Porno Tapes

by summerofspock



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Awkward First Times, Blow Jobs, Crack Treated Seriously, Crowley's Moustache (Good Omens), Disco Crowley, Facials, Filming, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Humor, Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Quote: Thank you for my pornography (Good Omens), Rimming, Sort Of, they are so bad at sex, tony - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25072174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: It's the 1970s and Hell wants Crowley to explore the temptation possibilities of filmed pornography.Aziraphale offers to help.aka Crowley makes the porno his pornstache deserves
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 218
Kudos: 632
Collections: Aziraphale/Crowley Smut Library, Stayin' Julive - The Tony Month Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd be remiss not to mention Closed Set in my a/n. It's a phenomenal story by racketghost.
> 
> I would say this is inspired by it but it might be more accurate to say these stories perhaps share a lineage. The parents are pornography and the mortifying ordeal of being known but while one of the siblings went to Yale drama school and went on to become an oscar-winning director, the other went to clown college and now performs fart jokes at children's birthday parties.
> 
> This is the fart joke at a birthday party.
> 
> (not to diminish the value of fart jokes. they too have their time and place)

_1973_

Crowley’s yearly review is going great. Beelzebub has some terrifically terrible things to say about his M25 idea. If it gets Hell off his back then it was worth late nights in the mud moving markers. He’s almost proud actually. A little bit of work now for years of no work later.

It’s all going swimmingly when Beelzebub pauses and strokes their chin thoughtfully. "I’ve heard word of a new human invention. Pornography."

Crowley has to bite back a laugh. Porn had existed basically since Eden. Humans are horny buggers.

"They’re filming it these days. Big productions," Beelzebub says. "We were talking in the Council about the potential for swift dissemination of lust via this new technology. We would like you to pioneer it."

Crowley snorts, he can't help himself. "What? You want me to direct a porno?"

Beelzebub leans forward and flashes a grin, all sharp, little teeth. "No. We want you to be in one."

* * *

The thing is...Crowley doesn't like to use the word _virgin,_ but that's what he is. Back in the heyday of orgies, he'd tried. He really had. But a human had touched his dick once and he nearly shot out of his skin in disgust.

They are just _mayflies_. These little human beings, here one day, gone the next. The age difference _alone_ skeeves him out. And Crowley wasn't about to proposition a _demon_. Imagine having sex with a Hastur-type.

The mere thought makes Crowley shiver with disgust.

And now hell wants him to send in a dirty film. He wonders if a video of him wanking would do. But they also want it sent out into the world for consumption and a 10 minute video of Crowley playing with himself isn't exactly interesting.

So he goes to the one being who might be able to figure out a way for him to wriggle out of this. Aziraphale is fantastic at loopholes. And Crowley really needs a loophole.

The discussion goes where most of their discussions do; directly to the bottom of a bottle. Or several.

"Pornography? Really?" Aziraphale repeats in disbelief. He's sunk deep in his chair. "Dirty movies aren't even new."

"I know!" Crowley cries, flailing a bit. He always flails a bit when he's drunk. Too many wobbly limbs.

"And you've thought about simply pleasuring yourself?" Aziraphale confirms, sloshing through his words. He looks very pretty today. He's got a slightly out of fashion cravat tucked into the open collar of his shirt and it makes his neck look very biteable.

Crowley wishes he were allowed to bite, has done for years. He's pretty sure biting is off the table, alongside kissing, fondling, cuddling, and all the other little wistful things Crowley thinks about when he lays awake.

"Why don't we make it?" Aziraphale says. His eyes light up like he's just discovered the most wonderful idea.

Crowley nearly spits out his wine. "You want to have sex with me? On camera?" he says around a garbled mouthful of cabernet.

"Not particularly," Aziraphale says, wrinkling his nose. "But I'm willing. And if you don't want to rope in some poor human. I really am your best option."

Well, that's a little insulting. _Willing_.

"Alright fine. It's not going to be weird or anything?" Crowley asks even though he knows it's _definitely_ going to be weird.

Aziraphale shrugs. "What’s a bit of slap and tickle between friends?"

Ah fuck. Sounds like biting _is_ on the table then.

* * *

Aziraphale declares they absolutely must do research which is how they end up at the sex shop down the street, purchasing what has to be far too much lube, a rather hopeful-looking dilto, and a pile of pornographic films that Aziraphale says will help them generate ideas.

The poor cashier—Marjorie, her name tag says—doesn’t even blink as she rings them up. She's probably seen way worse.

As they walk out, Crowley finally asks, "What's the dildo for?"

"Variety," Aziraphale replies and that's that.

Crowley is tasked with obtaining a camera and tripod. Easy enough really.

They decide to film the thing at Crowley's flat because Aziraphale says there's more room and Hell will recognize the place.

"They don't expect it to be professional quality, do they?" Aziraphale asks as they settle in for a night of pornography and popcorn.

"I certainly hope not," Crowley replies. He does _not_ want to have to put in that much effort. Maybe a post-filming miracle can up the quality.

Speaking of quality, the films they've purchased vary wildly. Some are artsy while others really are just endless scenes of some well endowed bloke fucking a girl for what seems to be far too long to be comfortable. The girl seems to enjoy it but that's probably acting.

"Do we need to do more than one scene?" Aziraphale asks. He's been taking notes this entire time, scribbling things on a notepad in his elegant script. Crowley can't read it from the angle he's at. He probably doesn’t want to actually.

"Most of these are over an hour and include more than one sexual encounter. So far the average is 3.5 encounters. Though usually there is more than one partner. If it's just going to be us, i think we may be able to get away with fewer instances of intercourse."

During this little monologue, Crowley can feel his face get hotter and hotter. There had been a certain level of clinical detachment at the idea of doing this with Aziraphale but it's starting to feel very, very real.

"I'd also greatly appreciate it if you shaved your moustache," ]Aziraphale says.

Crowley's hand flies to his face. "Excuse me. This is fashionable."

"I don't fancy moustache burn on my face."

Oh, no, that means kissing. Crowley's stomach does a little dance at the thought. "I'm not shaving it," Crowley says. "Besides, I bet you'll like it. Adds texture."

Aziraphale narrows his eyes at him. "Fine."

* * *

“Should we figure out an angle to hide my face?”

It’s the day of. Bright and early because Aziraphale had said something about the sooner the start, the sooner they finish. Crowley wants to be offended but he finds he sort of agrees.

"Why would we need to hide your face?" Crowley asks, confused. There's a gnawing anxiety making itself known in his gut. Worming around in there. He doesn't like it but he doesn't know what to do about it. Hes about to have sex tor the first time. With Aziraphale. On camera.

"Won't your superiors recognize me?"

"No,'' Crowley says, looking up from his efforts to stabilize the camera with its reels. He’s not looking forward to editing this nonsense. "We don't exactly have pictures of all the heavenly agents on earth. What did you think? Hell was plastered with wanted posters with your face on it?"

Aziraphale glances away and it's absolutely telling.

Crowley drops his hands. "Wait. Are there pictures of me in Heaven?"

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. "Well, you are the serpent of Eden. Originator of sin. You’re something of a persona non grata up there."

"Well," Crowley says, fiddling with his moustache and feeling very chuffed. "What other demons are on your wanted list?”

Axiraphales eyes flicker away again.

"Wait. Is it just _me_?"

"We have a sort of wall alright. One side is the employee of the century and the other is the adversary of the century. The photo is quite unflattering," Aziraphale points out like that's going to do anything to change the fact that Crowley is apparently criminal #1 in Heaven's eyes.

He preens and Aziraphale looks ready to throw a pillow at him.

Finally, the camera locks in place and Crowley gives it a stern look. It had better do a good job. Crowley knows a good incinerator that should handle electronics just fine.

"So are we going with the delivery person storyline?" Aziraphale asks.

"I don't see why we need a storyline," Crowley says again. They've had this argument three times.

"It's how you draw people in. Every good film needs a narrative—"

"This is not a ‘good film’," Crowley points out and Aziraphale makes a frustrated noise. "We just need to fuck. I'll send the tape to Hell and then we can forget about it."

"We shall see," Aziraphale says in that infuriating know it all voice. "When we're editing, we can make the final decision. It won't be difficult to shoot some additional footage."

Crowley rolls his eyes and groans. He’s rolled his eyes more in the past three days than he has in the past century. His eyes are liable to fall out of his head at this point.

Aziraphale snaps his fingers and the camera starts rolling.

“Just like that then?” Crowley asks, hesitating by his coffee table. Aziraphale’s on the couch staring at him expectantly.

“We must get started somehow.”

“Uhhhh, kissing then?”

“Quite right.”

They’d made a list of sex acts to go through. Today would be hand jobs and after they watched the final product, they’d do a few other things, suck jobs and the like before working up to full penetration. Crowley maybe died a little inside every time Aziraphale said fellatio, but he’d soldiered on.

Aziraphale stands and comes to stand in front of Crowley. They stare at each other.

“I guess I’ll just— “

“Right.”

Crowley had always expected his first kiss with Aziraphale to be magical. He’d imagined it so many times. He thought it would be some romantic moment; he would have just confessed his feelings and they’d share a kiss for the ages. It would be fireworks; it would be music; it would be—

Not Aziraphale jamming his tongue into Crowley’s mouth like it’s a rapier and he wants to stab Crowley’s throat. Crowley yanks back. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing,” Aziraphale says, sounding very put-upon.

“Have you _never_ kissed someone before?”

“Have you?” Aziraphale says sharply.

“I did try to have sex with you humans so yes. Just didn’t go past kissing,” Crowley says, just as sharp. Aziraphale has a look in his eye like he’s about to get very huffy. Crowley should have known it would go like this.

“Well, what’s wrong with it?” Aziraphale demands.

“You don’t need to jam your tongue in there,” Crowley says. “Go slower.”

“The movies we watched didn’t go slow,” Aziraphale points out and Crowley sighs.

“How about I personally don’t want your tongue licking the back of my molars so we are _going to go slower_?”

“Fine,” Aziraphale bites out and Crowley kisses him again.

It is...slightly better. Barely. Aziraphale’s tongue is still going far too deep into Crowley’s mouth but it feels less pointy this time. He does pointedly jam his tongue at the underside of Aziraphale’s as if to say _back off_ except Aziraphale just makes a little choked off noise that makes Crowley think he _likes_ the jabbing.

The kissing might be lackluster but it’s still Aziraphale so Crowley’s tight pants are definitely growing tighter.

Aziraphale pulls back and his eyes are glassy which gives Crowley a little thrill of pride. Sword tongues or no, that’s a good look on Aziraphale’s face.

“Couch?” Aziraphale asks breathlessly so Crowley pushes him back until he drops onto the couch and Crowley can crawl into his lap.

The move doesn’t quite work because Aziraphale’s coat catches behind his knees and he loses balance. His shoulder slams into Crowley’s solar plexus, knocking the breath from his chest.

“Fuck,” he wheezes and Aziraphale dumps him onto the couch so he can toss his coat aside.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asks, peering down at him.

“Yeah, fine,” Crowley says, rubbing at his sternum. “I’m going to take your trousers off.”

Aziraphale nods and Crowley undoes his zip. His hands shake with anticipation and when he slips them inside he finds—

“Um, Aziraphale?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale asks.

“You haven’t got…”

“Oh! Right!”

Crowley feels a penis spring up under his hand which puts him in mind of sea sponges. He grimaces. He gropes around a bit until Aziraphale pushes his hand away.

“You’re not making a clay pot. Be careful,” he admonishes. “Let’s kiss again. I think we were getting better.”

And they were. This third kiss — snogging session? — is much improved. Aziraphale seems to have learned less is more vis a vis tongues and Crowley enjoys himself a great deal. Heat begins to build between his legs, liquid and _good_ , and he rocks down into Aziraphale’s lap, greedily drinking in the angel’s moans. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Slightly embarrassing, sure. But enjoyable.

Aziraphale’s hand drops to his trousers and he fumbles with Crowley’s zip for an inordinate amount of time. Over a minute at least. Growing frustrated, Crowley knocks Aziraphale’s hand away and undoes the fastenings himself. They knock hands as they both try to touch each other.

Aziraphale manages to get to Crowley first, wrapping his hand around his dick in a way that hurts.

He hisses and elbows Aziraphale in the stomach. “Lighten up down there.”

“Oops, sorry. Got a bit excited, I think.”

Bruised dick or no, that makes Crowley smile. Aziraphale is _excited_ , a far cry away from _just willing_.

With some finagling, they manage to get their hands on each other. The angle is awkward and Crowley’s wrist twinges but then he pumps his hand up and down Aziraphale’s dick twice and he feels it twitch just before something hot and sticky drips over his fingers. Semen. He has Aziraphale’s semen on his hand. It’s vaguely disgusting, but also stupidly erotic.

 _Maybe that’s just what sex is like_ , Crowley thinks idly as he removes his hand.

Aziraphale’s eyes are closed and he looks wonderfully blissed out. His hand has stopped it’s movements in Crowley’s pants so Crowley jams his own hand in there and jerks himself off. Aziraphale’s spunk slicks the way a bit better and the mere idea that it’s Aziraphale’s release on his hand, on his skin, has Crowley tumbling over the edge embarrassingly fast.

“Oh,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley drops his head onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. His face is red, he knows it. But he thinks Aziraphale might be equally embarrassed for once.

Aziraphale snaps his fingers. “I suppose we watch the final product. See what needs tweaking?”

They both clean up before setting up the film. It plays back, projecting on the wall despite the clear absence of a projector. Crowley thinks he’s going to be mortified watching himself have sex, but it turns out that...there’s nothing much to see.

Sure, there’s some kissing which looks just as awful from a distance as it felt experiencing it. Once they’re on the couch, they sort of look like they’re falling over each other in a tangle of limbs and not once does the camera catch a glimpse of a dick which Crowley thinks might be antithetical to the point of pornography.

The reel plays out and they sit in silence for a moment.

Aziraphale breaks it. “Well, that was quite terrible.”

Crowley groans and drops his head into his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually sort of sorry about this one.
> 
> CW for a really poorly communicated blowjob and facial

Crowley tips Aziraphale hips back in an effort to move him slightly on the couch.

"You know, I thought there would be more mouths involved," Aziraphale says huffily even as he shuffles back on his elbows.

Crowley grunts in frustration. Aziraphale is laid out in front of him, a beautiful expanse of pale softness. He's got stretchmarks along his hips, running down his thighs like the barest caress of fingernails have left marks behind. He is perfect. 

And he's looking expectantly between Crowley and his dick which sort of ruins the whole mood.

"I’m _trying_ to make sure the camera can actually see what's happening," Crowley says pointedly. 

Aziraphale shimmies into the cushion and his prick wobbles back and forth with the movement like an excited flagpole. How he has sustained an erection through all their rearranging, Crowley has no idea. Anxiety had withered his own stiffy nearly thirty minutes ago.

"Can we kiss again?" Aziraphale asks suddenly, startling Crowley from where he's sitting on his haunches, considering the best angle of attack.

His stomach jumps at the idea that Aziraphale wants to kiss him. But they can't because— 

"No. Kissing looks terrible on camera."

And besides that, the no-tongue kissing makes Crowley _feel things_. Lovey-dovey nondemonic things that he prefers not to think about

Aziraphale pouts at him, a very specific pout that once had Crowley traveling 90 miles to find a specific flavor of swiss roll. 

"I just can't get in the mood without kissing." 

The pout grows in intensity.

Crowley gives Aziraphale’s dick a meaningful look. It looks back with it’s one, rather small eye. "Seem to be doing just fine to me."

The pout turns churlish. "Physical arousal is not mental arousal, Crowley. You're being reductive."

Crowley groans dramatically. Why did he fall in love with such a bastard? And why did they have to end up fucking for the first time in front of a camera?

_Because you are a coward who won’t say how you feel._

"Fine,” Crowley bites out. “But we’re not filming it."

Aziraphale gives a pleased wriggle that makes his cock bounce some more. "Jolly good."

Crowley sighs and shimmies up the couch until he’s straddling Aziraphales thighs. "Remember. Less tongue."

Aziraphale expression turns deadly serious. "Yes, of course. Tongue in port, sir."

He even gives a little salute that has Crowley groaning. What an idiot. 

He leans down to kiss him and for a moment, it's blessedly soft. His hands press into the plush expanse of Aziraphale chest, he can feel the twitch of his cock against his stomach which causes an answering response in his own trousers. He brushes their mouths together and Aziraphale’s lips part on a soft exhalation. Aziraphale cups his jaw and scrapes his teeth over Crowley’s lower lip in a way that goes straight to Crowley’s gut. His previously anxious penis wakes up a bit.

Crowley pulls back because it’s all a bit much and wheezes, "See. That was better."

Aziraphale hums. "Yes. Good. But I do like the tongues you know."

"Noted," Crowley says flatly. "Now I'm going to go down on you. Just try to last more than 30 seconds. We need to fill an hour or so."

"If there was a story, we wouldnt need to have so much sex on camera," Aziraphale says again, rising up on his elbows to watch as Crowley slithers down his body.

"Oh, shut up about the bloody plot of the thing."

With that, he snaps his fingers and the camera clicks to life.

Aziraphale has been naked in front of him for quite a while now and Crowley had had his dick in his hand not two hours ago but being eye to eye with the thing is a bit different

A lot different. For one it's sort of fat and Crowley knows it's going to be uncomfortable in his mouth.

"Tally ho, I guess," he grumbles and goes for it.

There's a burst of strangely bitter flavor across his tongue as he holds Aziraphale cock in his mouth. The skin is hotter than Crowley had expected and he almost jerks back in surprise. He would have done, if Aziraphale hand hadn't found its way into his hair, gripping tight and forcing him to take his dick deeper.

" _Ohmygoodness_ , Crowley," Aziraphale gasps and it sounds like the world’s greatest porn performance but when Crowley glances up, Aziraphale looks truly blissed out. His eyes are shut, mouth parted, cheeks flushed a cherubic pink. The flicker of pride in Crowley's chest goes a long way to assuaging his nerves and he bobs his head a bit.

Aziraphale hisses and yanks on his hair. "Teeth!"

"Ob, shib," Crowley says, mouth full of cock. He moves his lips around, feeling very much like a munching horse as he tries to sheath his teeth. It must work because Aziraphale is moaning again, probably louder than necessary but he looks happy enough so Crowley keeps at it.

The hand in his hair turns into background noise as they find a tentative rhythm. Every once in a while, Crowley will taste that same bitter taste. It's a bit gross. Like yogurt that's gone slightly off. 

And then Crowley makes a mistake, he gets greedy. Hubris has always been the downfall of man but it is also the downfall of Crowley.

He braces his hands on Aziraphale’s soft hips and takes him all the way to the root, forgetting about his gag reflex until it kicks in. His throat convulses around Aziraphales cockhead and he tries to pull off so he doesn’t wretch. Aziraphale yanks at his hair and Crowley isn't sure if he's trying to help or trying to hold him in place but it doesn't matter because Crowley's teeth catch on the thatch of Aziraphale’s pubic hair, causing both of them to yelp as Crowley lurches back, still gagging but now with added pubes in his mouth. Lucky enough, that's exactly when Aziraphale comes. No warning, just a short gasp and then hot spurts of jizz are splattering Crowley's face. Some get in his mouth and then in his eye which burns like Satan's arsehole. 

Out of pure idiocy, Crowley tries to sit up to wipe it away before his eyeballs burn clean off but he over balances. He falls off the couch cushion and squarely onto his arse.

Crowley has never been one to own rugs so his butt gets a nice introduction to his very hard, very cold floor as spunk drips off his face and he tries to peel blond pubes out of his mouth.

Crowley hears the click of the camera shut off and when he looks up at Aziraphale, the angel looks apologetic.

"That took me a bit by surprise, my dear. I would have warned you."

"It took _you_ by surprise?" Crowley shrieks. He's still scraping pubes out of his moustache and now they’re all gunked up with curly hair. It might be the most mortifying thing that has ever happened to him and he once fell off a horse in front of the king of Spain.

“On the bright side, a money shot is integral to the genre.”

Crowley grimaces. “Don’t say money shot.”

“Cumshot?” Aziraphale ventures, cocking his head.

“Worse,” Crowley says sharply. “Far worse.”

Aziraphale hums thoughtfully and, for all the world, it feels like any argument they’ve had in the back of the bookshop or in some tavern over wine. 

“You know, I think I’ve changed my mind.”

Crowley miracles a damp cloth and starts scrubbing down his face. “Yeah. What about?” he asks, voice muffled into the towel.

“I think your moustache looks quite fetching when it’s all covered in—”

"If you say semen right now, I will discorporate you." Crowley closes his eyes and is _very_ glad he has the towel to hide the flush in his cheeks. 

"We needn't be ashamed of our proclivities," Aziraphale retorts. 

“Didn’t know you were a pervert, angel,” he says with no little amount of sarcasm.

“Pervert implies an abnormality, Crowley,” Aziraphale says primly. “And based on the popularity of the cumshot—Don’t look at me like that. I have to call it something—I am in the majority.”

Crowley drops his head against the couch cushion and groans. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some actually halfway decent sex in here i swear it 
> 
> no beta so im sorry for what are some probably atrocious typos

"Don't you think it's your turn to be on the receiving end?" Aziraphale asks blithely as they take a short break for nibbles.

Aziraphale had apparently brought a not insignificant amount of Crowley's favorite cheese because, in his words, he thought Crowley could use the emotional support. As if cheese was the ultimate in empathy.

Crowley coughs around the bit of cracker in his throat. "Sorry. What?"

"Well, I've been rather selfish, I think,” Aziraphale muses. “I could easily fellate you. Or perhaps a bit of anilingus? Would you enjoy that?"

Crowley's knees wobble at the thought of Aziraphale's head between his legs, mouth full of cock.  _ His cock _ .

"I’d uh...yeah,” he finally manages to reply in between bits of flying cracker and cheese as he struggles to do anything but cough.

Aziraphape hums happily. "It's settled then."

Crowley stuffs another cracker into his mouth and hopes Aziraphale isn't paying enough attention to see how red his face is.

**

"Trousers off, please," Aziraphale says, standing in front of him as Crowley reclines on the couch. At this rate he's going to have to get rid of the blessed thing. Every time he looks at it he'll get aroused and embarrassed. A combination he's had enough of in the last twenty four hours thank you very much.

"Should you take them off? Fill a bit more time," Crowley asks, pulse fluttering in his throat. He has no idea how this will go. Based on their other activities, terribly. But maybe Aziraphale is better at this. At taking the lead. Crowley doesn’t know what he hopes for. If it’s terrible he won’t have to feel so much. If it’s good...that hardly bears thinking about.

Aziraphale, with little protest, drops to his knees and reaches for Crowley's button fly. His fingers drift over Crowley's prick and it perks up immediately, growing hard under even that pathetic bit of attention.

He realizes he hasn't yet been on the receiving end of Aziraphale's touch. Not really. Just that patheyic attempt at a handjob earlier in the day. He doubts he's going to last very long given how he's reacting to a simple brush of knuckles.

Aziraphale snaps his fingers and the camera whirs on.

One button. Two buttons. Three.

Crowley sucks in a breath just as Aziraphale presses his hand up under his shirt, fingers splayed wide over the flat of his stomach. His hand is warm. The touch is enough of a distraction that he almost doesn’t notice when Aziraphale slips his hand into Crowley’s pants and pulls his cock free.

"Oh, you are lovely, aren't you?" Aziraphale says.

Crowley would politely disagree. Not that his cock is hideous or anything. It's just a cock. Pubic hair might be a bit bright and it does curve in a way that he thinks makes it look wonky, the phallic equivalent of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but Aziraphale is looking at it like he looks at a particularly expensive piece of cake and Crowley's protests dry up in his mouth.

Aziraphale strokes him twice, each touch lighting up Crowley's body to the point he can't stifle his response. He's already gasping when Aziraphale releases him and begins to tug on his trousers in an attempt to get them off.

They get caught around his knees and Aziraphale makes a frustrated noise. Crowley moves to help but misjudges and one of his fingers goes directly into Aziraphale's mouth. The angel sputters and leans back.

"Perhaps you best do that," Aziraphale admits, shrugging off his button down and revealing his beautiful chest. Crowley’s been too embarrassed and not aroused enough to appreciate it before. But now, well, it’s a  _ very _ good chest. "Up on your knees please."

Crowley's just kicked off his bottoms when the words register. "Huh?"

"Hands and knees on the couch. I'm going to eat you out."

The thought and the words make Crowley's eyes cross and he scrambles to comply. His legs only bump up against Aziraphale's arms once and not even that painfully. 

"Now I've never done this before but I've read extensively---"

Aziraphale's sounds like he's giving a lecture on eating arse and Crowley's starting to feel a bit exposed with his rump in the air, bollocks hanging down between his legs in a surely obscene tableau.

"So you'll have to give me feedback if I do anything wrong," Aziraphale finishes and before Crowley can reply, strong hands are prying apart his buttocks and a tongue is just  _ there _ .

Crowley yelps and falls flat on his face, dick crushed under the weight of his body. The sensation of Aziraphale licking him is still ringing through him. Crowley doesn't think he's felt anything like it before.

"None of that," Aziraphale says and there's a rustling behind him like Aziraphale is readjusting. "Lift your hips."

Crowley lets Aziraphale yank him around until one hand is supporting his hip and the other is pressed at the small of his back.

Being held up has some sort of effect on Crowley's brain, he goes all fuzzy at the edges, a bit floaty. Aziraphale kisses the backes of his thighs, making him shiver. 

"You really are beautiful."

Crowley hangs his head, letting it drop onto his folded arms as he shakes nonsensically at the praise. He’s not beautiful. What he is is at a complete loss.

Aziraphale nips at the swell of his arse and then the tongue is back, this time less insistent, a soft fluttering. Crowley moans. He can't help it. It feels like the worlds best, most intimate massage. The fluttering turns into long, hot licks that make Crowley's muscles tense and release. He's gasping for air and making stupid noises but he doesn't care. It feels good. More than good.

And then Aziraphale does something indescribable that makes light flash behind Crowley's eyes. He nearly falls forward again but Aziraphale holds him up. Crowley can feel the press of his nose against his arse, the hot flutter of his tongue, and the steady knowledge that its Aziraphale doing it is enough to make him leak all over himself. Precome dribbles down his shaft and hes making an utter mess of a very nice sofa but he cant care. Not right then.

With a final obscene suck, Aziraphale pulls back and manhandles him until he turns over. He looks quite the picture. His face is red, his mouth wet. 

Crowley suddenly wants to kiss him and for once he doesnt think he'd mind the probing tongue action Aziraphale seems to favor.

But Aziraphale doesn't kiss him. Instead he licks a wet stripe on the underside of his balls, making Crowley's legs twitch, before he takes the entire length of his cock into his mouth.

"Holy fucking shit," Crowley gasps, hand turning into fists at his sides. It's not enough so he grasps uselessly at the couch cushion beside him. The sight of Aziraphale humming with pleasure, bobbing his head like he  _ loves _ this is enough to make Crowley certain he's going to implode. Not just from arousal but from the sheer quantity of conflicting emotions rioting inside him.

Then Aziraphale pulls off, just enough to suck gently on the head, tonguing the sensitive underside and Crowley thinks he might have yelled but he can't be sure. He definitely doesn't want to watch the tapes and find out.

It's so good. Too good. Perfect. Aziraphale is perfect. And Crowley loves him so much. Always has and now  _ this _ . He's lost in the sea of sensation and love and when Aziraphale moves and sucks just right it all tumbles out.

"Fuck, angel, I love you. Fuck. So much."

Blood roars in his ears as the pleasure finally crests and floods out of him. He gasps for air and when he looks down at Aziraphale it's only then he realizes what he's said.

Shit.

Aziraphale wipes his mouth with a dainty press of his fingers at the corner like he'd just sampled some vol au vents and not swallowed a load of Crowley's come. "I think perhaps we need to talk."

Crowley's heart jumps into his throat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the inherent romance of moustaches

An icy wave of dread washes through Crowley at Aziraphale’s words. Had he really just... _declared his feelings during orgasm_?

Not only is that trite but it is beneath him. He is a demon. Demonic declarations of love should at least involve dinner. Or flowers.

_You’ve already done those._

Crowley stares at the ceiling and takes a deep breath. “Do we?” he asks in response to Aziraphale’s question, cool as possible. Cool as butter not melting in his mouth. Cool as a demon. Yeah.

Aziraphale huffs with effort as he rises to his feet. A blanket appears on Crowley’s lap and he has the presence of mind to be grateful, belatedly realizing he did _not_ want to talk about this with his dick out.

“I think perhaps we should have discussed this prior to,” Aziraphale gestures vaguely at the camera which shuts off obligingly, “getting started, but you know how I get. Overenthused. Cart before the horse and all.”

Crowley blinks. “What do horses have to do with anything?”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes but it’s not without fondness and Crowley’s heart surges with hope. He hasn’t ruined everything. Maybe Aziraphale won’t blame him for spilling out his silly soft feelings like a fool. Just another thing for them to push under the rug and not talk about.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, very serious. “I know our attempts at pornography aren’t going particularly well but it’s important you know I’m enjoying myself. And you needn’t look quite so devastated about confessing your feelings, it’s not as if I don’t feel the same way.”

Crowley’s vocabulary is reduced to a single word: “What?”

“Wait, you didn’t know?” Aziraphale has the decency to go a bit wide eyed. Even wring his hands a bit.

“WHAT?”

“I thought it was one of those mutually understood things!” Aziraphale protested, going pink about his angelic cheeks.

“You called us friends!” Crowley shrieks.

“I meant _friends_ ,” Aziraphale corrects, raising his eyes meaningfully.

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” Crowley hisses. “No matter how much you wiggle your eyebrows!”

“Well, I’m sorry. I thought we’d had enough innuendo-laden discussions throughout the last century for you to get it, but I forgot how absolutely thick-headed you can be,” Aziraphale says, turning up his nose like Crowley has offered him prepackaged cheese and onion sandwiches which Crowley knows for a fact Aziraphale would rather discorporate than eat.

“Innuendo-laden— _excuse me_? You couldn’t just come out and say it?”

“It was implied!”

Crowley groans and scrubs at his eyes. Despite his frustration (Of course this is what happens. This is how they get together. Aziraphale is just...of course), bright, bubbly joy is threatening to burst from him. He pushes it down because it wouldn’t do to _show_ something like that. He scoffs for good measure. “You absolute idiot.”

“Well, that’s not very fair,” Aziraphale replies with a pout.

“I think it’s bloody fair,” Crowley bites out but he’s starting to smile because he can’t help it. Aziraphale feels the same way. He knows and he’s not lecturing Crowley or pushing him away. In fact…

“Maybe some kissing again?” Crowley ventures.

"We have to finish the video," Aziraphale reminds him.

Crowley shrugs. "Yeah, but we can do some kissing first. Off-camera."

Aziraphale brightens. “With tongue?”

Crowley nods solemnly. “I’ll allow it.”

**

_Just bloody...budge up, would you?_

_Crowley, I can’t—my legs don’t bend like yours._

_I can’t just shove it in at this angle. My dick would break._

Beelzebub grimaces and shuts off the video before said dick does anything. They glance at Dagon who glances back. They both clear their throats uncomfortably.

“Well, that was—” Dagon begins.

“Best put that with the other torture devices on level three,” Beelzebub interrupts, not wanting to hear.

“With the sex perverts?” Dagon ventures.

“Yeah,” Beelzebub says as their flies finally recover and start buzzing. “Even they don’t want to see that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on tumblr [here](https://summerofspock.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> This will wrap up by the end of July aka Tony Month! I'll be updating Fridays or Saturdays weekly :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Trouser Snakes and Porno Tapes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777532) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan), [silkylustre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkylustre/pseuds/silkylustre)




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